


A Feast Worthy of Heroes

by MoonlightShines (Thatkillervibe)



Series: Sir Justin and the Four Warrior Friends [1]
Category: Stargirl (TV 2020)
Genre: Camelot, Canon Compliant, Episode Related, Gen, Kentucky Fried Chicken, Original Character that gets graced by Sir Justin's excellence, Roadtrips, The adventures of Sir Justin and Friends, s1e12
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-09
Updated: 2020-08-09
Packaged: 2021-03-06 01:42:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,059
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25795327
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thatkillervibe/pseuds/MoonlightShines
Summary: Sir Justin needs to buy food for his new friends before the morning's battle.
Relationships: Sir Justin & Pat Dugan
Series: Sir Justin and the Four Warrior Friends [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1872559
Comments: 15
Kudos: 28





	A Feast Worthy of Heroes

**Author's Note:**

> sir justin needs to be protected at all costs. thank you.

The time has come. Sir Justin gripped tightly onto his mop, counting to ten, once, twice, thrice, then again. His breathing quickened as he prepared for the night that would befall them. The dragon had been lurking in the water for far too long. It was time to destroy all that was evil in pursuit of justice. Order needed to be restored and the heirs need to properly claim their rightful rule.

The Queen, her family, and her friends. It was time for them to rise. 

Cleaning the halls of the castle that cultivated the Queen’s company gave him peace. The job was nothing exuberant, but Justin was used to tasks for every day, forgettable people. It was important to learn to serve and report to others. It was important to remember what it was like to aspire for more so that the appreciation is true after rising above thy station. 

The dirty water in his bucket sloshed over its edge. He bent down, his joints tired from his exhaustion, emptying the rest down the drain. Stripesy was so kind to let him rest in his abode, but the truth was he needed this grim janitor’s closet to collect his thoughts. And his monies. 

War requires sustenance. He knew from experience. A warrior with a grumbling belly would sooner wind up with the sword of his enemy slashed through his side. It was a common mistake to forget that human necessity before the battle. 

Winged Victory was still lost, perhaps only alive in the depths of his mind and the will of his heart. But this car parked in Blue Valley High’s lot would do him good to reach Stripesy’s fortress. Justin looked at the map that Stripesy had so carefully detailed out for him, spreading it across the steering wheel so he could memorize it one last time, then set out for the adventure to find the proper feast worthy of heroes on the way.

Thirty minutes into his drive, he heard a choir’s chorus ring in his ears. The clouds parted above the massive tower with Kentucky’s colonel smiling down at him.

Sir Justin flicked on his indicator and turned left for the parking lot.

“Excuse me,” he greeted once inside, removing his hat to bow in servitude from one lowly worker to another. There was no line, the restaurant was empty. “May I trouble you for some of your greatest meat for feasting? Fit for the strong-willed and brave-hearted?” 

One of Colonel Sander’s knights stared back at him, his face stiff as stone. “You want a bucket combo?” 

“Yes,” he said. “Three, kind sir. Three buckets of your finest fried poultry.” 

"Buckets of ten pieces, twenty or thirty?" 

"Twenty?" he guessed. "Enough to feed ten men and women, who may never rest again." 

The knight of Colonel Sanders blinked. “Macaroni or coleslaw?”

Justin pondered over that question for a moment, recalling the dishes he used to eat with his eight dear friends, the seven soldiers of victory. 

“You ask such profound questions, my lad.” He scratched his beard, taking a little more time. “Which one leaves you with the courage to defeat your greatest foe?”

“Me?”

He smiled. The lad’s lack of courteousness attitude was but a minor weakness in his character. Those with great destinies often display deep doubt before they venture on their life’s path. While Justin was still a page, he had belittled his importance when others addressed him. It was not until King Arthur himself gave him Excalibur and looked him in the eye as though he deserved the semblance of worthiness bestowed upon him did he learn to embrace his own value. 

“Yes! What do you fancy?” 

His new friend looked taken aback. Although he vowed to give this lad a chance, perhaps he should’ve gone to Taco Bell instead. He has made a few friendly acquaintances there and time was of the essence. There was still another hour of driving to do according to Stripesy’s map. 

“The coleslaw, I guess. Unless you’re allergic to mayo. Because that’s slathered all over it.”

“I shall take one of both, then!” 

“And the third one?” 

“Coleslaw, for it is your favourite.” 

The man tapped the order on the cash register. 

“Would you like gravy with that?”

He nodded and fumbled for the bills in his pocket to pay. He put away his change, then sat at one of the plastic tables, since the server of the colonel said there was not enough chicken made yet to deliver his food instantly. 

Justin had no problem with that, used to the hours of anticipation for a simple loaf of baked bread. A moment passed, and he noticed all the cobwebs in the corners of the room. The broom was sitting there, resting against the wall with colourful portraits of crispy chicken sandwiches.

He drifted over, picking the broom to clean.

“Hey, man. You don’t gotta do that.” 

He chuckled, looking back to find the colonel’s servant with his bags of fried poultry, steaming with condensation. “What’s your name, lad?” 

“...Greg? Greg Paymour.” 

“Gregory, never cease being true to you. I may look like a janitor, a wageworker, like yourself, but years ago I was chosen for knighthood.” The memories swept Justin away much like the dust in his red pan. “And tonight we prepare for battle.” 

“Uh...Okay?” 

“Knights serve for their land. In any way they are able. Your master, Colonel Sanders. Do you serve in memory of him to provide for thy family?" 

Gregory nodded. "I have a baby at home actually. Never got to finish college, but my girlfriend's working really hard to become an interior designer. "I do it all for those two." 

"Ah. You have a princess! Well I too, serve, with soap and water the stains of the foe, in honour of my fallen friends.” He emptied the dustpan into the waste and passed the broom like a baton, taking his bag of food in exchange. “Do you understand me, Gregory?” 

“I think so?” He cleared his throat and dusted the grease off on his soft clothed armour. “Yeah, actually. I do.” 

Justin shook his hand and fastened his cap again. “Your time is now, my dear fellow. Be well, and thank you.” 

The door chimed as he exited, and Sir Justin climbed back into the car at twilight. 


End file.
